lullaby to close your eyes
by we are eternal
Summary: Irosami-I would give the world if she could sing to me this day. Warning: character death


Iroh came up to stand beside her and stroked her long hair. A very informal "hi", words seemed to fail him when he was with Asami. They just sat on his tongue, melting into rivers—of lies, the sweet verses of wiser men and somewhere in there was the truth—that he swallowed harshly.

She had put on a nightgown, white and silk with lace at the bottom. He wished she was as naked as he was. Some last wanton gift to him before the dawn when they had to walk away from each other and into battle. It was what she was gazing at so intensely. She could see tomorrow perfectly through his window and all he could see were the scattered black clouds and the little light there was glinting off the ocean.

He put his arm around her and rested his forehead against the side of her face. His lips brushed her cheek and her neck and her shoulder. Touching her was the only language he knew.

They were strangers when they swung their legs over the side of the bed and their feet touched the cold, hard floor of his room, of reality. In the eyes of everyone else, and to themselves when they met their reflection what she meant to him and what—he hoped so terrifyingly deeply—he meant to her was a lot simpler than it actually was.

The moment came. When the dark orange, blood red flames that had been sweeping his mind and turning his world pitch black started to clear and he could breathe again. They had done it—it was over…They were circled around something-someone, his men, Korra and there was pity in their eyes that made his stomach do backflips.

It was Asami and she was hurt badly. He dropped to his knees and scooped her up.

"I should have told you it was going to be okay," Iroh muttered. "That would have made a difference, would have changed you from being like this…" His voice splintered into this unrecognizable _thing_ he wanted to wrap his hands around and choke.

"But it is okay," Asami smiled. She smiled even though she was sad and in pain, just like him—worse than him. "We won. You did that—you and Korra. Everything is going to get so much better for non-benders, for everyone because of you…remember that and you're here," When she thought about herself, when it narrowed in that this was it and he was holding her…she could see why he had always had trouble talking to her because he knew, one way or another, they would have to say goodbye.

"You're here, and that makes it okay." Tears ran down her face, no warmer than her skin, hanging off her nose and splashing onto her bone white lips. No makeup today, no waves of jet black that caught the attention of the sun and moon, the boys and girls. She wore her face bare, her hair up. Today she was a warrior. She was always a warrior, stronger than he.

"_What you told me, right after we met—that I looked like I was waiting to get my portrait drawn—I scoffed, but I thought it was sweet. You thought I was pretty."_

"_May I kiss you?"_

"_You may, but I can't promise I'll like it."_

"You said you would never make me cry," She reached, her hand trembling as she did so (she was so weak and the sun had never felt so good) and wiped away his tears. He hadn't even felt them fall.

Iroh looked to Korra. _Do something._ But she just shook her head and he knew she had already tried, not once but again and again to help her friend until Bolin pulled her into a hug.

"Get away from her!" Mako shoved him aside. Iroh should have let him keep shoving him, burn him if he felt he must, as long as he had those last moments with Asami, but instead he walked away with his head held high. Regret settling in sharply.

Mako chattered like a mouse, conceited and loud. "Who did this to you?"

What did that matter now? Her attackers were most likely dead. Maybe by his hands. But what difference did that make. Their deaths wouldn't give her back her life.

Iroh felt her go. Though it was not his arms she rested in or that he could see the light in her eyes go out—he was so thankful for Mako's need to play hero because he couldn't watch that. He felt her go because a part of him went with her.

He should have told her. That it was going to be okay, and that he loved her. He thought he had tomorrow, but not all tomorrows play quite like you want them to. The song of loss was ill-suited to a prince and princess. They wanted to dance with fresh cut grass beneath their feet and only the trees watching them, and not in the ruins of a stranger city.

_Sleep and dream. I will be with you—as soon as I can—and we will live out every fantasy you once had._


End file.
